


To have and to hold

by WeeSweetieMice



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Series, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2515742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeSweetieMice/pseuds/WeeSweetieMice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Politics doesn't make strange bedfellows — marriage does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To have and to hold

They were married on a Wednesday - a working day when there was the least likely chance of any fuss. The register office was an old courthouse, which they both found ironic, but Malcolm secretly thought it fitting that Jamie be in such a place for him once again.

It had been Jamie’s idea. Well, he’d been the first to actually voice it.

“We should get married,” he announced over breakfast one morning.

Malcolm looked up from the selection of that morning's papers that were strewn across his side of the table. “What makes you think I’d want to get married again?” he asked.

“Because it’s _me_ , you prick. Why wouldn’t you?”

Malcolm tilted his head, looked at Jamie in a contemplative manner, and went back to his papers. Later that afternoon, walking into the kitchen where Jamie was on his sixth cup of coffee of the day, he stopped in front of him and simply said “All right”.

The grin on Jamie’s face was brighter than any sun and, on seeing that, there was no way Malcolm could hold his own smile back. “But I’m not getting dressed up like some Mills and Boon cunt. You won’t catch me wearing a kilt.”

“Suit yourself, and by that I mean yes, you probably will wear a suit, as per fucking usual,” replied Jamie. “ _I’ll_ be wearing a kilt though.”

 

And so, the wolves of Westminster, one in a slim grey suit and one dressed fresh from the Glencoe Massacre, declared that they knew of no legal reason why they should not be joined in marriage, and stepped outside together into a bright autumn afternoon. Jamie had insisted on some of the traditional aspects, announcing decisively to Malcolm that “if you don’t put a ring on my finger then you can’t put a finger in my ring”. Malcolm, who thought he’d never wear a wedding ring again, twisted his on his own finger “because a promise is a promise”.

Neither of them were into dining out so the plan was booze - quite a lot of booze - and a takeaway (“no, not fucking fish and chips, do you even HAVE tastebuds, you human fly?”). In the taxi home, when Jamie pressed his thigh tightly to Malcolm’s and slid his hand into Malcolm's shirt, Malcolm had to concede that Jamie wearing a kilt was a Very Good Thing indeed.

That night, with Jamie poised behind Malcolm (and Malcolm ordering - no, _begging_ \- for him to hurry up) he leaned forward towards the older man’s ear and whispered “you’re _mine_ ”. Then he paused, gave a low laugh, and added “legally”, to which Malcolm rasped “works both ways, you cunt; are you going to fuck me or not?”.

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
